


The Haunting of the Evernight House

by Blake_Belladonna_Defence_Force



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Horror, haunted house au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28672998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blake_Belladonna_Defence_Force/pseuds/Blake_Belladonna_Defence_Force
Summary: As a child, Blake Belladonna suffered through the haunting of a demonic entity simply known as “Adam”.Years later, she finds herself asked by her mother to babysit a young boy for his aunt.But all is not well in the house on Evernight Road and soon, Blake finds herself reliving old memories as the mysterious past of her ward’s home is discovered...All with her own entity breathing down her neck.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 18
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is for the Horror prompt of JanuRWBY. Unfortunately, I did not get it done in time. Therefore, I have split what I do have in half and will be continuing to work on the rest. 
> 
> So... for now, have this pilot episode of The Haunting of the Evernight House; my first time writing something for the horror genre.

* * *

_ 99 Evernight Road, downtown Vale. _

The house, while still in town, is isolated from all of the other homes on the street. That’s the first thing Blake notices, as she and her motorbike finally reach its driveway. It’s simplistic too, and small. Blake might even go to say that it’s rather cozy looking. The name, however, of the street it resides on does more than enough to make Blake feel unnerved. She’s all too aware that names often carry some form of truth to them. 

* * *

_ A pale face comes to mind, framed by long, messy red hair. Against  _ **_his_ ** _ face, it appears blood red; contrasting against the lifeless blue eyes that stared at her from her childhood closet. The sharp and cruel looking bull’s horns that twisted above  _ **_his_ ** _ head are matched only by the sharp and twisted smile upon  _ **_his_ ** _ lips. Razor fangs shine in the moonlight as  _ **_he_ ** _ watches her, preying upon her fear and feeding off of her paranoia.  _

* * *

Blake looks up at the house, blinking slowly up at it before removing her helmet and shaking out her hair, her black cat ears flicking in relief at the lack of confines now that they’re free. It’s with a tired sigh that she dismounts from the purple bike, rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck in an attempt to shake off the memories that had long since passed. 

“Come on, Belladonna.” She murmurs to herself, as she collects her bags from the back of her bike and runs an affectionate hand over the golden sunflowers that her best friend (and long term crush) had painted for her, the pretty designs almost seeming to sparkle in the sunlight. “Shake it off. You’re in control.  **_He_ ** can’t hurt you.” She adds firmly, straightening her back and climbing up the steps to knock on the wooden door.

The door opens and an older woman smiles brightly at Blake, her green eyes tired but full of warmth. “Blake Belladonna! Your mother told me that you’d be early but I wasn’t expecting you for half an hour!”

Blake shrugs her shoulders, the leather of her jacket shifting as she does. “I like to arrive early. It usually gives the kids time to adjust to my presence with their trusted adult around. Kids are really good at picking up on people’s energies so… I think it’s important to give them a chance to adjust.”

“Oh, isn’t that sweet. Well… as you know, I’m Emily Pine, but you can just call me Em. I went to school with your mother.” Em says cheerfully as she guides Blake into a sitting room and sits beside her on the couch. “And you’re looking after my nephew. I’m afraid he’s… a little shy at first. But let me tell you that he has a wild imagination.”

“I had a pretty crazy one myself when I was his age. He’s… what? Six?” Blake asks, smiling when Em nods proudly. “Yeah. I had  _ all  _ sorts of imaginary friends.”

“Oh, Oscar just has the one, I think.” Em says, a strange shadow crossing her eyes for a brief, confusing moment before pausing and smiling behind Blake. “Oscar, why don’t come and say hello to Blake? She’s going to take care of you while I go away for work this weekend.”

Blake turns and watches as a little boy with bright green eyes and black hair scampers past her and hides behind his aunt; peeking out adorably at her and staring at her worriedly. “Hey, buddy.” Blake says softly, moving to sit down on the floor so that she has to look  _ up  _ at him. “Can I ask you something?” She asks gently, smiling gratefully when he gives her a shy nod. “Do you have a favourite story? See… I love stories but I can't find any more. Do you think you could help me out and tell me one?” 

Oscar pauses, glancing up at his aunt and shyly stepping closer to Blake when April smiles at him. “I like The Lady in the Tower.” He says quietly, fiddling with his shirt nervously.

“The Lady in the Tower…” Blake murmurs, furrowing her brow as though thinking hard before giving Oscar a grin. “That  _ is  _ a new one for me. Maybe while your auntie Em is gone, you can tell it to me. I’ll even tell you  _ my  _ favourite story.” She suggests, waiting patiently as the boy looks down at his feet and thinks.

“O-okay. Can we- will you play games with me too? The last lady didn’t like games.”

“I love games. My best friend and I are always coming up with new ones to play together.” Blake says with a friendly smile. When the boy offers a shy smile in return, Blake can’t help but notice several scratch marks on his cheek and pauses as something uncomfortable settles in her chest. “Aw, did you get hurt, buddy?”

“I fell into a bush.” He says quickly, moving back to hide behind his aunt. He crosses his arms and stares at the floor, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Oscar… does like to play in the garden. Accidents happen, I’m afraid.” His aunt sighs, the tiredness in her eyes growing, as though this were a regular thing. Her lips twist into a dark frown for a moment, her gaze growing distant before she shakes her head and offers Blake a forced smile. “Now, Blake… I understand that a young thing like you has a social life so I’m willing to be lenient. But I must limit your guests to one person. I don’t want to cause Oscar any undue stress, you see.”

“Of course. The only person that I’ll have over is a girl called Yang Xiao Long. She helps me with looking after the kids I babysit.” Blake says as she sits beside Em and shows her a photo of Yang, unable to help the fond smile that crosses her lips. “She’s my best friend and she’s  _ great  _ with kids. I can even email you her child safety certificate, like I did with mine, if you want.. But first… we should talk house rules.”

“Ah, I knew I was going to like you.” Em laughs, absentmindedly patting Oscar’s head as he wanders to the coffee table and starts to draw on a pad of paper with his crayons. “So… let’s talk.”

Blake spares Oscar one last glance, biting back a frown as he reaches for a red crayon and focuses on his picture. She turns back to Em with a pleasant smile and pulls out a notebook and pen from her pocket to take notes, laughing politely as the woman teases her in a good natured way. 

But watching a young child with pitch black hair, so similar to her own, brings back memories that Blake had left behind years ago.

* * *

_ “And… who is this?”  _

_ Blake glances up at her father as he sits beside her at their dinner table to examine her drawings. The six year old shrugs quietly as her father points out an angry, red character hovering over what looks to be Blake. “The Man-Bull.” _

_ “He’s very big and scary looking.” _

_ “ _ **_He_ ** _ is. I don’t think I like  _ **_him_ ** _. He scares me.” Blake mumbles around a cookie, frowning as she looks up at her father. “But I think  _ **_he_ ** _ likes that. I don’t know why, daddy. I wouldn’t want  _ **_anyone_ ** _ to be scared of me.” _

_ “Do you see him often?” Ghira asks softly, gently placing the picture down and watching his daughter carefully. “This… Man-Bull?” _

_ “ _ **_He_ ** _ only comes when I’m really scared.” Blake says with a frown before reaching for the red crayon. “Like when I wake up from a bad dream. I wake up and I see  _ **_him_ ** _ standing in my closet.  _ **_He’s_ ** _ not very nice to me when I’m scared.” _

_ “What does he say?” _

_ “ _ **_He_ ** _ tells me that I’m always going to be afraid.” Blake says, her cat ears pinning back against her head as she stares at her drawing. “ _ **_He_ ** _ tells me that I’m a coward. That for as long as I’m scared,  _ **_he’s_ ** _ always going to be here to feed off of my- my…  _ **_he_ ** _ calls it para-noise-a.” _

_ “Para-noise-a? Do you mean paranoia, sweetheart?” _

_ “Yeah, that thing.” Blake mutters before looking up at her father with an expression that breaks the usually stoic man’s heart. “Is  _ **_he_ ** _ right, daddy? Am I a coward?” _

_ “You are no coward.” Ghira murmurs, gently running his hand over Blake’s ears and smiling down at her. “But no matter what you see… you are always going to be braver than any monster. You’re our fierce, little panther.” _

_ “You don’t believe me… do you?” _

_ “Well… I’ve never seen the Man-Bull. But he scares you and that’s enough for me, sweetheart. I’ll talk with your mama and we’ll see what we can do to fix this. Okay?” _

_ “Okay. Thank you.” _

_ “I’m your dad. I’m meant to protect you from bad stuff. Even the things that I can’t see.” Ghira says softly, kissing the top of her head and standing. “I’ll go find your mama. We’ll sort this out.” _

_ Blake nods and goes back to drawing. She cocks her head at the creature on the page, drawn just like the monster from her closet and she glances up at the ceiling before sighing loudly and writing a single word above the beast; _

**_Adam._ **

* * *

Blake pauses in the middle of her guest room, removing her jacket and rolling out her shoulders before cracking her neck. She runs a hand down her left arm, tracing her fingertips along the panther tattooed into her skin as she approaches her closet. Her brow arches, as though bored of an old routine, and she opens the door, staring into the darkness before stepping in and closing the door behind her. A pressure begins to build around her, suffocating her. It surrounds her lungs, threatening to consume her. But she’s been here before; every single time she’s moved into a new room, she’s been here. So she inhales deeply, closing her eyes and slowly releasing it. 

“You have no power over me.” She murmurs softly, her cat ears rotating back as a noise is heard behind her. She can almost hear **_his_** voice in her ear, almost feel **_his_** unnaturally long fingers and their claws tapping at her shoulder to try to force her attention onto **_him_** _._ She can almost see **_his_** face sneering at her from the depths of the closet. So she breathes in deeply and exhales slowly once more. “My courage and strength outweigh my fear and paranoia. I leave you with nothing to feed upon. I leave you to starve.” She speaks calmly, keeping her breathing even as the clawed taps stop. The voice fades away before it can even begin and **_he_** pulls back from the recesses of her mind. The air clears, releasing her lungs and allowing her to breath without constraints.

Feeling lighter, she opens her door and makes her way to her backpack, plucking her sketchbook and pencil case from its confines and making her way back to the living room. She offers Oscar a small smile as she sits on the couch and crosses her legs, using her thigh as a table for her work. Oscar simply stares back, his gaze unsure and nervous before offering a tiny smile back. Blake hums softly and turns to her sketchbook, opening it and plucking a pencil from her kit and begins to continue where she had left off, making sure that her body language stays open and relaxed, even when she grows frustrated with her mistakes. Oscar will reach out to her in his own time. He just needs time to adjust to her presence.

“Miss Blake?” Oscar says quietly, earning a soft hum of acknowledgment as Blake looks up at him. He looks away, fingers twisting his sweater nervously. “Can- can I put on music? Please?”

“Of course you can, buddy.” She says softly, nodding as she gives him a kind smile. “Play whatever you want, okay?”

She turns back to her task, biting her cheek as she narrows her eyes critically at the large monster cowering behind a much too thin tree. She tilts her head this way and then that, before deciding that the eyes need to be much bigger, more innocent looking. Before she can change them, she raises her head at the sound of a familiar voice crooning through the speakers as Oscar settles down to draw. 

_ “Well, it's one for the money two for the show _

_ Three to get ready now go, cat, go” _

She can’t help the pleased grin that crosses her face as Oscar begins to bob happily in his seat, tapping out the rhythm of the song with a crayon against the table. A young artist with a taste for Elvis Presley… colour Blake impressed. 

“But don’t you step on my blue suede shoes.” Blake sings along, noticing how Oscar snaps up his head to stare at her with a surprised, albeit pleased, expression lighting up his face. “Well, you can do anything but lay off of my blue suede shoes.” Blake keeps singing as she works, pretending not to notice as Oscar begins to become more fidgety. Before too long, she feels him climb up onto the couch beside her to stare at her.

“You like Elvis?” He squeaks, eyes bright with joy as he wiggles in place happily. 

“He’s my favourite. My mum would dance with me all around our house with Elvis playing on the radio.” Blake says, placing her sketchbook and pencil down to give Oscar her full attention. She reclines against the couch, smiling gently at the boy as he settles against the arm rest. “Do you have a favourite song, Oscar?”

“I like Ain’t Nothin’ but a Hound Dog!”

“Oh, that’s a fun one!” Blake chuckles, feeling a small sense of relief. Some kids could take a while to adjust to a new babysitter but it looks like Oscar’s having a slightly easier time than most. “I really like Can’t Help Falling in Love with You.”

“Well, yeah. That’s because you’re old.” Oscar says, very matter of factly as he blinks up at Blake. “Old people like gooey love songs.”

“You’re right. I am old.” Blake says with a playful grin, as Oscar smiles at her. “Can you guess how old?”

“Uh… you don’t have wrinkles yet so… you probably weren’t alive when the dinosaurs were like Auntie Em.” He says seriously, leaving Blake to fight back a choked laugh. He tilts his head at her, eying her critically for a long moment before nodding to himself. “I bet you were alive when Vikings were. You’d make a really cool shield maiden.”

“Not quite that old but you’re pretty close.” The amused twenty-eight year old chuckles, smiling warmly at Oscar as a proud smile crosses his face. 

“Miss Blake? What’s that on your arm?”

“Oh, this? This is a tattoo. See?” Blake says as she offers her arm to Oscar and watches as he gazes at it with curiosity. “It’s okay; you can touch it if you want.”

“Auntie Em says that some tattoos have meanings.” Oscar says, before meeting Blake’s eyes and tilting his head at her. “What does yours mean?”

“Well… when I was a little girl, probably about your age, I was really scared. But over time, I learned that I could be brave; just like a panther. They’re symbols of bravery and strength so I got one put on my arm to remind me that I can be just like a panther.” She says softly, smiling as she lifts her arm to gaze at the dark blue, almost purple, eyes of her panther. “She reminds me that I’ve always had strength and bravery within me; I just had to look for it.”

“I wish that  _ I  _ could be brave.” Oscar mumbles, shifting back to the arm of the couch and curling his arms around his tiny body.

“I think that you’re plenty brave.” Blake reassures gently, smiling softly at him as he looks up to meet her gaze. “It must be really scary to have somebody else looking after you instead of your auntie Em, after all.”

“Yeah, but I heard auntie Em say to her friend that if you hurt me, she was going to rearrange your spinal cord.” Oscar says with a nonchalant shrug, his eyes drifting past Blake to her sketchbook. “You draw?”

“Uh… yes.” Blake says, clearing her throat and trying not to think about the sweet, older woman smiling at her as she rearranged her spine, one disk at a time. “I’m an illustrator. I take people’s words and stories and I draw them. Do you want to see?”

“Yes, please!”

Blake laughs softly and opens her sketchbook back to current work in progress and smiles as Oscar gasps in delight. “This is for a new children’s book called Little Red and the Big, Kind Monster. See that little girl character looking at the monster? That’s Little Red. She goes for a walk in the woods to visit a friend when she hears a noise and suddenly, she comes across a very big, very hurt and very scared monster.”

“The monster doesn’t look scary at all.” Oscar observes, shuffling closer to look at the monster with wide, curious eyes and a small smile. “He looks really kind!”

“Well, that's kind of what my job is. I need to make him look  _ Big _ and  _ Kind _ .”

“You’re really good at your job. I wish all monsters were like him.” Oscar says shyly, offering Blake a small smile before climbing off the couch and wondering back to his own drawings with not a word more. 

Blake watches him for a moment, his words settling into her chest in a most disconcerting manner. Something about those words, spoken so casually, doesn’t sit quite right with Blake, who slowly turns back to her task and tries to buckle down and focus.

_ “I wish all monsters were like him.” _

* * *

“Relax, Blake. Kids say crazy shit all of the time.”

“And sometimes that crazy…  _ crap _ is real, Yang.” Blake says lowly into her scroll, holding it between her shoulder and ear as she cuts cucumbers for Oscar’s afternoon snack. She sighs heavily, glancing back at where the boy sits at the dining room table, his hands playing restlessly with a red crayon. “I told you about you-know-what. Was that just a kid saying crazy  _ crap? _ Was  _ that  _ just a little girl having an overactive imagination? Because I’m pretty sure that  _ that  _ doesn’t lead to a kid getting a  _ freaking  _ scar on her left hip.” 

“Blake-“

“Something isn’t right, Yang. I can feel it.” 

“Blake.” Yang says again, her voice soft in Blake’s ear as she blinks back frustrated tears. “It’s okay. I get it. That… was unfair of me to say, especially with the hell you went through. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t.” Yang murmurs, and Blake can almost feel the way that Yang would curl an arm around her waist and pull her close enough to gently butt their heads together. “I shouldn’t have trivialised it like that. Not with what you’ve been through. If you’re worried, I can call to check up on you every so often and ride out on Bumblebee once a day to make sure y’all are doing okay. You’re my best friend and- and I never want you to feel like I won't take your concerns seriously.”

“Thank you.” Blake breathes, clearing her throat and quickly wiping her eyes. Admittedly, she wanted to claim ignorance about  _ why  _ Yang’s words had stung so much… but she more than knows that it stems from her feelings for Yang. The ones that had been growing stronger and stronger with each passing day. The idea of Yang not believing her, of trivialising it just like so many doctors had… it hurt. “This place… just brings back memories.”

“Shit. Need me to come over tonight? I’ll bring your favourite hoodie and your favourite snacks?”

“No, it’s fine. You have breakfast with Weiss tomorrow so you need your sleep. God knows how that girl can expect anyone to be awake at 7:30 in the god-  _ gosh dang  _ morning.” Blake says, correcting herself before she curses in front of Oscar. She huffs fondly when Yang giggles, practically seeing her smug smirk when she closes her eyes. “Oh, be quiet. You do the same for Ruby and she’s literally twenty-six years old.”

“She can swear when I’m dead.”

“You sound like your father.” Blake chuckles fondly, placing the cucumbers on the bread and quickly cutting off the crust. “Look, I gotta go. Can I call you later?” She asks, feeling more than a little embarrassed by the hopeful tone in her voice.

“Like you even need to ask, Belladonna.” Yang says warmly, her voice making Blake’s heart melt and spread warmth throughout Blake’s entire being, almost seeming to seep into her very  _ soul.  _ “You can  _ always  _ call me; any time of day and night.”

“Got it.” Blake says quietly, biting her lip as Yang chuckles softly down the line. “I’ll talk to you tonight. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Blake sighs softly as she hangs up and shoved her scroll into her pocket as she carries Oscar’s snack over to him and sits beside him to drink her tea, feeling slightly unnerved by the strangely amused expression on his face. “What?” She asks, her tone light and playful as she leans on the table and arches a brow at him.

“Nothin’. Just… it suddenly makes sense why you like that gooey Elvis song. You love Yang.”

“What makes you say that?” Blake questions carefully, all while keeping her tone light and friendly, despite the pounding in her chest.

“The Witch told me.” Oscar says, blinking up at her as though it’s the simplest thing in the world. “She’s smart like that.”

“She? Who’s she, Oscar? Why do you call her the Witch?”

“I can’t say her name.” Oscar mumbles, as he drops his crayon and reaches for his sandwich. His little hands shake slightly and Blake feels a part of her heart break for the little boy. “If I say her name, she gets stronger and scarier. I don’t like it when she does that. Names give power.”

“Okay, sweetie.” Blake murmurs, smiling reassuringly when he looks up at her anxiously. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

Blake glances into her tea and sighs heavily, biting her lip as she thinks silently to her herself. Names do, in fact, give power. Some people believe that learning a name of an entity, if that  _ is  _ what the Witch is, can grant a certain kind of…  _ power  _ to the owner. But Blake knows all too well that’s not entirely correct. It simply makes them bolder. It encourages them; to have their name known and circulating through the head of their target. What truly grants an entity power… is to have their name spoken. To verbally acknowledge and, in some small way,  _ accept _ their presence.

Now  _ that’s  _ when things start to get...  _ dangerous _ .

* * *

_ A six year old Blake sits upon her bed in the dead of the night, hugging a pillow to her chest tightly. Her mama and daddy were going to take her to a doctor in the morning to see if he could help make the Man-Bull go away. But Blake knows, even at such a young age, that he can’t. She can feel  _ **_him_ ** _ creeping at the corners of her young mind. She can smell the stench of rot coming from her closet as the door slowly opens, a long, clawed hand gripping the wood for a moment before it swings open to reveal a  _ **_thing_ ** _ with too long limbs.  _ **_He_ ** _ wears a suit made of red and black cloth, somehow pristine despite the rest of his bedraggled appearance.  _ **_His_ ** _ long, red hair frames  _ **_his_ ** _ face and for a moment, Blake imagines that it’s blood.  _ **_His_ ** _ eyes stare at her,  _ **_through_ ** _ her, and she whimpers fearfully as  _ **_he_ ** _ taps  _ **_his_ ** _ great, sharp and twisting horns against the doorframe in a rhythmic pattern.  _

_ “Is the little kitten scared?”  _ **_His_ ** _ voice echoes in the nighttime silence, the heavy weight of  _ **_his_ ** _ presence beginning to press down upon her, wrapping around her lungs as she begins to struggle to breath.  _ **_He_ ** _ chuckles, low and rasping, when Blake’s cat ears press back against her head. “Did she have a nightmare?”  _ **_He_ ** _ grins, his teeth sharp and wicked in his too large mouth. “Does she remain a coward?” _

_ Blake tries to scream for her mama and daddy but her voice gets stuck in her throat. Silent tears fall from her eyes as _ **_he_ ** _ tilts  _ **_his_ ** _ head almost curiously at her,  _ **_his_ ** _ neck letting out a resounding crack that fills the room. _

_ “You know my name now.”  _ **_He_ ** _ says with another chuckle. “What is it?” _

_ “Ad-Adam.” Blake squeaks, terrified beyond measure, silent praying that if she does as she’s told, then he’ll leave her alone. _

_ “Finally.”  _ **_He_ ** _ laughs, low and raspy, as a terrifying, red haze begins to swallow  _ **_him_ ** _. Bit by bit,  _ **_he_ ** _ disappears,  _ **_his_ ** _ laugh still echoing in Blake’s mind. _

_ She lays down and curls up into a tight ball, silent sobs falling from her throat as clings to her pillow tightly as the weight of the air around her persists, despite  _ **_him_ ** _ being gone. _

* * *

Blake awakes later that night, slowly opening her eyes and biting back a gasp at the familiar face of the entity that had tormented her as a child. She inhales deeply, blinking slowly up at  **_him_ ** as  **his** mouth pulls back into a furious, silent snarl. She tests her limbs and, as expected, finds that she can’t move. 

“You’re getting desperate.” Blake says, in a strangely conversational tone of voice as **_he_** growls at her. “You know that this is just like all of the other times I’ve moved into a strange room. You sense my nervousness and my anxiety. You lay in wait for me in the closet. I enter your domain and take power away from you.” Blake keeps her breathing slow and even as she talks, silently noting that when **_his_** expression falters, she’s able to move her toes… _right on schedule._ “You get frustrated. You know that I won’t let you feed off of my fear and paranoia so you get desperate. Try to make my terror of you outweigh everything else with nightmares and your roof crawling like you’re some kinda Exorcist wannabe. But we both know that eventually, you’ll fade away; starved and desperate. I may see you back in my room at home after this gig is over but I’ll repeat the steps and you’ll be gone until I move into a _new_ room.” Blake says slowly, watching as **_he_** recoils slightly, as though burned by her words. Slowly, she can feel **_his_** hold over her loosen and she sits up, barely flinching as she all but comes nose to nose with **_him_** **.** “There is nothing for you to feed upon here so… _kindly fuck off.”_ She hisses through a sharp smile as the entity snarls and disappears in a red haze. 

Blake groans, flopping back onto her back and pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes before letting her hands fall to her sides with an irritated grunt. “Every fucking time.” She mutters, her jaw clenching tightly as she glared at her ceiling furiously. “This is why I stopped babysitting.”

Yes, Blake had given up babysitting several years ago… but when her mother had asked her to help out an old friend of hers, Blake found that she didn’t have the heart to refuse.

It just fucking sucked that it meant having to see  **_him_ ** again.

* * *

“Good morn- woah, hold up, buddy.” 

Blake watches as Oscar freezes at the kitchen table before turning to her with a sheepish smile, the action only making her more suspicious of the way he’s holding his arm. Sighing softly, she kneels down and holds out her hand with a patient smile and mouths out a silent “thank you” when Oscar gives her his arm. Gently she pulls up his sleeve and frowns at the sight of what is clearly four fresh scratch marks on his forearm, centred in a bruise that looks horrifyingly close to that of an adult hand. “Oscar, honey, what happened?” She questions gently, keeping her tone gentle and soft as Oscar looks away from her.

“A cat did it.”

“You guys don’t have a cat.” Blake says calmly, settling down cross legged in front of him and waiting quietly, her hand light on his arm so that he can pull away whenever he wants. “I really would like to know what happened. I’m meant to keep you safe. I’m your babysitter. That’s my job.” Blake smiles softly, reassuringly when Oscar finally meets her eyes. 

There’s suspicion in Oscar’s eyes, as though trying to discern something. She can practically see his mind working, a thousand thoughts running through his head as he tries to figure something out. “... it was the Witch but it was my fault, really. Can I eat now? I’m hungry.”

“... okay but first, we gotta clean this up. Hop into your seat and I’ll go grab the first aid kit, okay? There’s a good boy.” Blake says with a soft sigh, gently squeezing Oscar’s hand as he nods and climbs into his seat.

Blake’s quick to make her way to the bathroom, her brow furrowing worriedly. Thus far, she has discovered that Oscar’s a quiet child with an overactive imagination, he has an imaginary friend, mentioned the “Witch” on two separate occasions and had sustained injuries that he seems to feel the need to lie about. Combining that with the fact that the bruise looks awfully similar to an adult hand leads to Blake feeling more than a little on edge as she patches the boy’s arm up and gives him his breakfast. As she sits across from him with her own meal, she silently promises herself to bring this up to Em when they see her again on Monday. With it being Saturday… all she has to do is wait two more days. 

They could wait that long… right?

* * *

Blake smiles softly from her place on the park bench later that afternoon as Oscar giggles and runs with the other children at the park. She can’t help but notice that he seems… brighter, now that he’s out of the house. Happier and more energetic, though he’s still fairly quiet and shy whenever the other kids talk to him. 

“How old is yours?”

Blake jumps, turning to a blonde woman with blue eyes smiling at her kindly, a small baby held in her arms. It takes Blake a long moment to process what she means by “yours” and when she does, she lets out a soft laugh. “Oh! No, Oscar’s not mine. I’m just babysitting him for his aunt. He’s six years old.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I just thought- you just have such a motherly look to you, is all.” The woman says with a sheepish little laugh, leaving Blake to wonder what the hell she means by “motherly” looking. “My little Adrian will be a year old in another month. His mama should be back from work by then, huh?” She coos, directing her attention to her baby before turning back to Blake with a warm smile. “My name’s Saphron, by the way.”

“Blake.” Blake says, smiling politely as she and Saphron shake hands before turning back to watch Oscar and the rest of the children play. 

Blake pauses, tilting her head slightly as Oscar stops running to wander over to a little girl with green hair tied into two separate braids. She’s sitting off on her own, looking unsure and anxious as Oscar sits next to her and smiles shyly at her. For a moment, the girl seems to almost wave him away but when Oscar stands and offers her his hand, she blinks up at him in surprise before taking his hand and letting him guide her over to the other children. It doesn’t take long for the little girl to be accepted into the group, her little face split in two by a large grin as she runs around and squeals with delight when she narrowly avoids being tagged. Oscar glances back at Blake, a proud grin crossing his face that Blake immediately returns; holding up her thumbs and mouthing a silent “good job” to him as he runs off. 

“Aw. What a kind heart he has.” 

Blake glances at Saphron, smiling slightly before glancing back at her charge. Yes, Oscar has a kind heart. He’s a good, well meaning boy and Blake’s grateful that he isn’t having as hard of a time with his aunt being gone as he could have. But there’s still something that doesn’t sit right with Blake. A heaviness that seems to hang over the boy whenever he’s at home.

Whatever it is… it’s worrying.

* * *

“So… Oscar. Can I ask you something?”

“I dunno. Can you?”

Blake freezes as she reaches into the picnic basket, slowly raising her head to squint at the six year old boy holding a teddy bear in his lap as he offers her a cheeky smile. “Okay,  _ wise guy.  _ May I ask you a question?” She says with a playful growl, huffing a soft laugh when Oscar pretends to think for a moment and nods. “Okay. I… noticed that you’re a  _ lot  _ quieter at home. But when we came out of the house, you seemed a lot happier. Do you not like it in the house, buddy?” She asks softly as she places their sandwiches and water bottles on the picnic blanket, carefully watching how Oscar’s expression darkens slightly.

“The Witch can’t leave the house.” He says simply, looking down at his teddy bear as he cuddles it close to his chest tightly. “I get really happy about that because then she can’t hurt me.”

“Does she hurt you a lot?”

“She grabs my arms or scratches my face when I won’t listen to her. She’s really mean sometimes. But other times, she’s nice to me.” Oscar mumbles quietly, finally looking up at Blake and frowning sadly up at her. “Sometimes, she feels like a witch. But other times, she feels like a mommy because she tells me stories.”

“What kind of stories does she tell you, Oscar?” Blake questions gently, smiling gently at him as he fidgets. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay too. I just want to understand.”

“She… tells me about the old house. The one that was there before ours. Before they smashed it into the ground and started again.” Oscar says, emphasising his point by pressing his hand against the blanket, as though crushing something beneath his tiny hand. “But it didn’t  _ really  _ start again, Miss Blake. She’s still there and she’s looking for them.”

“Them?” Blake echoes softly, something cold and uncomfortable settling into her chest as Oscar begins to him lightly under his breath. “What do you mean, sweetie? Who’s she looking for?”

“Her kids.” Oscar says with a shrug, pausing to wave his teddy’s paws around absentmindedly. Slowly, he looks back up at Blake and smiles, something about the expression almost seeming sad beyond his six years of life. “They’re dead too.”

But then the boy is reaching for his sandwich and acting unaffected, humming as happily as any other child having a picnic with their caretaker as he bounces happily when he bites into his food.

Blake wishes she could say the same for herself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the days go on, Blake remembers more of the childhood that she’s spent years recovering from.

“There’s my favourite girl.”

Blake snorts a laugh as she steps forward, wrapping her arms around her best friend’s neck and sinking into her embrace easily. Yang’s arms settle around her waist and she turns to bury her nose into her neck, nuzzling happily into her as Yang laughs softly. “Thanks for coming over, Yang. I could do with the company.”

“Is that your friend?”

Blake turns away from Yang and offers Oscar a small smile as she nods gently. “Yes, this is Yang. Remember how your auntie said she’s allowed to keep me company?”

“Old people need old people.”

“Oh, he’s got jokes.” Yang teases, kneeling down and offering her hand to Oscar and smiling as he takes it shyly. “You must be Oscar. Blake’s told me a lot about you, little man. You’re a pretty cool little dude.”

Oscar stares up at Yang, eyes wide with awe as he takes in the bomber jacket she wears and the aviator glasses on top of her head. He glances back at Blake who chuckles softly and nods. “Okay. You’ve had dinner. How about I come up and read you a story before I hang out with Yang for a bit?”

“Can Miss Yang come too?” Oscar asks, glancing at Yang shyly before tugging at her jacket. “Do you like stories too? Miss Blake likes stories.”

“I love stories! Especially when Blake tells them. She’s an  _ amazing  _ story teller.”

“Yeah! She even does the voices!”

“What?! She does the voices for  _ you _ ?!” Yang gasps dramatically, dropping her jaw and staring at Oscar with wide eyes before shooting Blake a faux-betrayed look. “She never does the voices for me! Ugh. Must be because you’re, like, cooler than I am.” Yang pouts, crossing her arms and staring up at Blake with sad eyes. “Is he cooler than me, Blake?”

“Yes, now come on. Oscar? I see you’re in your pyjamas. Are your teeth brushed?”

“Yes, Miss Blake.”

“Okay! Then let’s go tell a story!”

Blake chuckles softly as Oscar and Yang exchange a delighted look, both seemingly thrilled by the idea of story time with Blake. As Oscar runs up the stairs to his room, Yang stands and smiles softly at Blake, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear before nodding in the direction that Oscar had run off to. Blake swallows thickly and nods, leading Yang to the boy’s room and trying desperately to fight off the blush that she knows in spreading across her cheeks.

* * *

“ _ No _ , said the brown dog. _ I won’t bite them _ .” Blake says, pitching her voice lower and turning the page to show a picture of a brown dog staring up at a human guard as he defiantly protects a red wolf, a white songbird, a black cat and another golden dog. “ _ They were just trying to help. They didn’t do anything wrong. _ But the guard didn’t like that so he tried to kick the brown dog. But then, he heard a growl and jumped back as the red wolf stood by the brown dog and snapped her great, big jaws at him. He then let out a loud yell because the songbird flew into the air and started to fly at him, pecking his face as she sang.” Blake pauses, smiling as Oscar lets out a great, big yawn and nestles further into his covers, his eyelids starting to droop tiredly. “There was a loud bark and the man screamed when the golden dog ran up to him and hit his chest with her strong paws, laughing at him as the black cat jumped onto her back and tackled the man’s face, spitting furiously as she scratched him. With a yell, the guard ran off and left the four friends to turn to the brown dog with a smile. One by one, they all stepped forward and welcomed their new friend; promising him that he’ll never have to eat another boot ever again.”

She chuckles softly as she looks back up to see that Iscar had fallen asleep. “And that is the story of The Little Brown Guard Dog.” She whispers, standing up and placing the book by Oscar’s bedside table. Carefully, she tucks him in and makes her way to the door, her skin burning as Yang stands up from where she had been leaning against the doorway to follow her to the living room.

“You’re still great with kids.” Yang observes when they sit down, taking off her jacket and throwing it over the arm of the couch. She drapes her arm along the back of the couch, smiling softly at Blake as she sits on her left, tucking her feet beneath her as she shrugs. “I know staying in new rooms is…  _ hard  _ for you. It’s really nice of you to do this for Emily.”

“Eh, she needed the help. I couldn’t refuse.”

“Look at you… dashing to a lady’s rescue. Like some kinda noble knight.” Yang teases, her hand shifting to play with Blake’s hair absentmindedly, her fingers grazing the nape of Blake’s neck. “One of these days, somebody’s gonna snatch you up and then where will all of the Dames and Dukes be without their hero?”

“You know I’ve sworn off relationships.” Blake mutters, looking away and sighing sadly, frowning as Yang lets out a concerned hum. “Too much baggage. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Everyone’s got baggage, Blake.”

“Not everyone’s baggage consists of a malevolent entity feeding off of their fear and paranoia like some kind of demonic parasite.” Blake says with a small snort, crossing her arms as she reclines against the couch and sighs heavily as she lets her head fall back against it, her gaze trained towards the ceiling as a sense of longing grips at her heart. “It’s not like I  _ like  _ being alone, Yang. I  _ wish  _ circumstances were different. But having a partner is just- it’s out of the question with that  _ thing  _ haunting me. All it takes is one moment of nervousness, one moment of fear and anxiety, and  **_he’s_ ** back.  **_He’ll_ ** step out from whatever closet I’m closest to.  **_He’ll_ ** hover over me and my partner will wake up and  _ see  _ him. Or they’ll see me talking to the empty air and think that I’ve gone crazy. Either way… it’s always too much.” Blake’s voice cracks and she closes her eyes tightly, gritting her teeth as she focuses on keeping her breathing even despite the painful grip around her heart. “ _ I’m  _ always too much.” 

“I won’t lie to you… this whole entity thing  _ is  _ a lot, Blake.” Yang says honestly, and Blake opens her eyes to see Yang watching her with a soft and gentle gaze, a tiny smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “But… maybe there’s somebody out there who wants to help you carry your baggage, y’know? Maybe they’re closer than you think.”

“Yang, I —“ Blake falters, swallowing thickly as she looks away and sighs. “It doesn’t matter. The point is that it’s not fair to ask that of anyone. I’ve already seen how badly it can end. Remember Sun?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. I also remember how much it broke your heart to say goodbye.” Yang murmurs, her voice low and full of  _ something  _ that Blake can’t quite identify. “It’s not your fault that this thing is attached to you, Blake. You deserve to be loved and held and taken care of. You don’t have to be alone.”

“I’ll be fine.” Blake says, clearing her throat roughly and standing up stiffly, shoulders tense as she makes her way to the kitchen. “Nothing can get rid of  **_him_ ** . I’ve accepted my lot in life. This is just… a sacrifice I have to make, Yang.”

“Blake-“

“I’m going to make some tea.” She mutters, pausing at the door and taking a slow, steadying breath as her eyes sting with the threat of tears. “You want one?”

“I- yeah. Sure.”

Blake nods and walks away, turning her back on the  _ one  _ thing, no… the one  _ person  _ she wants more than anything else in the world. Yang was a gentle, kind and caring friend, the sweetest person that Blake knows. That’s why it was so easy to fall into a close friendship with her… why it was so easy to fall  _ in love  _ with her. But no matter how badly Blake wants her, no matter how much she aches and burns and yearns to hold her, to kiss her, to explore her body… Blake can’t have her. She can’t ask her to love a woman haunted by an entity. She can’t ask Yang to commit to a life like that. She can’t take the risk of  **_him_ ** scaring Yang enough that  **_he_ ** gains enough power to hurt her. She won’t let it happen a second time.

She won’t let Yang get hurt. Not like what happened with Sun.

* * *

_ A twenty-two year old Blake sighs heavily and rolls onto her side to watch her sleeping boyfriend. It’s nice, she thinks. To see him sleeping so peacefully despite their earlier fight regarding a distasteful joke he had made, a thankfully rare occurrence. _

_ She knows full well that this is hard on him. Knows that he desperately wants to help her, to protect her. But there’s so much that he doesn’t understand— that he  _ **_can’t_ ** _ understand.  _

_ He can’t understand why she never takes risks. _

_ He can’t understand why she keeps her distance, even now. _

_ He can’t understand why she wakes up in the middle of the night and talks to an empty ceiling. _

_ And he can’t understand why  _ **_Yang’s_ ** _ the one she turns to after a nightmare. _

_ Blake can’t understand it herself. Maybe it’s because Yang was the first one to believe that she wasn’t sick. Maybe it’s because Yang has always taken every fear and nightmare seriously. Maybe it’s because Yang has  _ **_always_ ** _ been ready to sneak into her room and hold her until she feels safe again. But somehow… Yang has  _ **_always_ ** _ made her feel safe. Blake supposes it’s because that’s just what a best friend does.  _

_ Even if her boyfriend  _ **_does_ ** _ tease her about having a crush on said best friend.  _

_ But that couldn’t be it, she thinks to herself as she reaches out to run her fingers tenderly, lovingly, through Sun’s hair. Her heart swells with affection and adoration as he leans into her touch, smiling softly in his sleep as she cups his jaw and brushes her thumb along his cheek. She  _ **_loves_ ** _ Sun. She loves him dearly and he  _ **_does_ ** _ make her feel safe… it’s just a different sort of safe. She adores how his arms feel around her and she loves how his blue eyes light up before he makes a stupid joke. She loves his ridiculous fondness for hanging upside down by his tail just so he can get a “Spider-Man kiss” from her. She loves him. She  _ **_knows_ ** _ she loves him.  _

_ So why is it her best friend that she turns to in her moments of terror? _

_ As her mind begins to think on it, she rolls into her back and frowns at the ceiling. She remembers meeting Yang on their first day of high school. Becoming friends with her, going to her games and cheering her on loudly. She remembers when it all became too much and she showed up to Yang’s place in the pouring rain, tears falling from her eyes as she collapsed into her arms and told her about  _ **_him._ ** _ She remembers the long nights and gentle words spoken. She remembers how  _ **_safe_ ** _ Yang’s voice would make her feel after nightmare, even as she’s staring into  _ **_his_ ** _ lifeless blue eyes and sharp grin. She remembers it all… and as she does, she feels anxiety and fear and guilt grip painfully at her heart when she realises that Sun might be right.  _

**_Does_ ** _ she have a crush on Yang? _

_ She closes her eyes against the tears that burn at the corners of her vision and when she opens then again, she gasps at the sight of  _ **_him_ ** _ hovering over her. She tries to put a lid on her fear but with her current onslaught of emotions, she can’t quite manage it. Her chest begins to heave with hyperventilating breaths, tears spilling from her eyes as  _ **_he_ ** _ grins down at her, his mouth stretching far wider than it should. She’s terrified, far more scared than she has been in years, and when she feels Sun move beside her, her fear only grows when she feels his anxiety spike. _

_ “Blake?” Sun whispers worriedly, his voice pitching with fear as he cups her face tenderly. The action, so full of care and love, only serves to make Blake cry harder. “Babe, what’s-“ _

_ Blake watches in horror as Sun’s widen at the sound of a guttural, raspy chuckle. Slowly, Sun turns his gaze upward and gasps, his face going pale as  _ **_he_ ** _ reaches out a clawed hand to Sun’s chest with a sickening grin. _

_ “So we finally met, _ **_Sun_ ** _.”  _ **_His_ ** _ voice echoes in their minds and Blake realised far too late that  _ **_he’s_ ** _ drawing  _ **_his_ ** _ hand back to strike. _

_ Sun lets out a yell as  _ **_his_ ** _ claws strike his chest, blood splattering their covers as he falls to the floor. The sound of her boyfriend, the man she loves, in pain is what spurs Blake forward and she rips herself from her bed and grabs Sun, shoving him towards the door and hissing at him to run. When he refuses, she begs him to leave, begs him to trust her and when he finally relents, giving her a final terrified look as he bolts, she turns to  _ **_him_ ** _ with a low and furious snarl bubbling up in her throat as  _ **_he_ ** _ grins wickedly at her. _

_ “Fuck.  _ **_You.”_ ** _ She spits furiously and steps into her closet, into  _ **_his_ ** _ domain, and utters her mantra.  _

_ It takes many repetitions to make  _ **_him_ ** _ fade away and when she finally steps out into her room, the morning sun has risen and she collapses on the edge of her bed weakly. She drops her face into her hands and sobs, loud and heartbroken cries as she realises that she has to say goodbye. _

_ Later that day, she’s surprised by his understanding, pained smile, when she tells them that they have to break up. She’s stunned more by his belief that it’s because of Yang. She’s quick to correct him; assuring him that it’s because of her need to keep him safe and her decision to swear off relationships permanently that she’s breaking up with him. She can’t risk him getting hurt again and she can’t risk anyone  _ **_else_ ** _ getting hurt by  _ **_him_ ** _ again.  _

_ So it’s with a final kiss farwell that she says goodbye to the man she loves and it’s with a steely resolve that she swears to never let history repeat itself.   
  
_

_ Not with Sun. Not with Yang. Not with anyone. _

* * *

Blake lets out a soft hum of surprise when, as she’s letting the tea steep, a gentle hand presses against the small of her back and she looks over her shoulder to see Yang smiling apologetically at her, her lilac gaze soft and concerned.

“Hey.” Yang says, moving to lean against the counter top, her arms crossing over her chest as she sighs. “Look, I’m sorry. I just… you’re my best friend. I just want you to be happy and… I just hate that you feel like you have to make a sacrifice like that. You shouldn’t have to. I can see how much it hurts you, y’know.”

“No. I shouldn’t have to… but I do.” Blake says softly, stepping closer to Yang and placing a hand on her shoulder, brushing her thumb across her bare skin tenderly. “I can maintain my own fear and anxiety. I can keep myself safe. But I can’t do that for someone else. When Sun woke up that night… he was already dealing with anxiety because of our fight. Seeing me as scared as I was worsened it and- and it led to him feeding  **_him_ ** . I can’t take the risk that it’ll happen again, Yang.”

“I get it. I just wish I could help you.” Yang sighs sadly, moving to take Blake’s hand from her shoulder and hold it gently between her own, her thumbs stroking Blake’s skin in soothing circles. “You deserve better than this.”

“We’ve tried it all, Yang. Doctors, hospitals, exorcisms… nothing works.  **_He’s_ ** too powerful to be driven off, but  **_he’s_ ** also too weak to hurt me or anyone else unless I let  **_him_ ** feed. I can control this much and I can make sure that  **_he_ ** doesn’t hurt anyone else.” Blake murmurs, ignoring how Yang’s touch sends shivers down her spine, how the soft affection in her gaze makes her heart flutter madly. “I don’t  _ need  _ a relationship, you know. Do I wish I could have one? Yes.  _ God,  _ yes. But I can’t so there’s no point in crying over it.”

“I know. I know you don’t need one. But I still hate that you had to sacrifice what you and Sun had. He made you happy. It’s not fair.”

“I know. So do I but this is my burden to bear.” Blake smiles, hoping that her heartache doesn’t reach her eyes, and steps forward to pull Yang into a hug. “I’m okay. I promise. I have a job I love, I have my family and my friends. I’m okay. So don’t worry about me so much.”

“You  _ literally _ have a demonic entity attached to you. How the fuck am I meant to not worry about you?” Yang mutters, curling her arms around Blake and tucking her under her chin. “Maybe you’ll get rid of  **_him_ ** one day. Then you’ll be free.”

“Your optimism is endearing… but I gave up hope after the fifth exorcism.” Blake chuckles mirthless, turning her head to bury her face into Yang’s collar, inhaling deeply as Yang holds her tightly. “It’s going to take something a lot more powerful than whatever  **_he_ ** is to bring  **_him_ ** down.”

Yang makes a soft, unhappy sound in her chest, her right hand moving to cup the back of Blake’s head protectively as she presses a gentle kiss in between her cat ears. Blake nuzzles closer to her, holding Yang tightly and biting back the frustrated, heartbroken tears that threaten to follow.  _ This  _ is all she can allow herself to have with Yang. It's all she can allow herself to have with  _ anyone.  _ It’s enough for her.

It’s enough.

It has to be.

* * *

_ “It’s not enough.” _

_ A twelve year old Blake sits up in bed and frowns at her door, her ears rotating forwards to better hear her parents’ hushed voices. _

_ “I know, Kali. I don’t know what else we can do to help her.” Her father’s voice, cracking at the edges with heartache, rumbles. “You remember how she responded to being hospitalised. We can’t put her through that again.” _

_ “And the medications seemed to make it worse.” Her mother’s voice says, her own voice wavering. “The exorcisms don’t seem to be doing a damn thing. I don’t- Doctor Watts contacted me again today, you know? He keeps claiming that he can come up with a solution to fix her if we give him consent to experiment on her. But I am not letting that man touch my baby.” _

_ “Neither am I.” Ghira says and Blake hears a soft noise that could be a sob. “Blake says that it gets worse when she’s scared. Do you suppose meditation could help? Teach her to manage her anxieties?” _

_ “It’s worth a shot. I’m so scared for her, Ghira. She’s just a baby!” _

_ “I know, honey. But she’s never going to be alone. That is something we can make sure of.” _

_ Blake bites her lips, her ears pinning guiltily against her head as she hears the gentle cries of her distressed parents. Slowly, her gaze drifts to her closet and she feels a flash of white, hot anger.  _

_ It isn’t fair. _

_ They didn’t do anything wrong. _

_ She didn’t do anything wrong. _

_ Why did  _ **_he_ ** _ have to make their lives a living hell?! _

_ Furiously, she wipes at the tears falling down her face and nods, quiet and determined. If her mother and father thought that learning to control her fear would help, then she was going to give it everything she has. _

_ She can’t let  _ **_him_ ** _ be in control anymore. _

* * *

“Miss Blake? Miss Blake! Please wake up!”

“Wha-huh?” Blake groans, hours after she had said goodbye to Yang and watches her drive off on her black and gold motorbike, as she lifts her head from her pillow and blinks sleepily at Oscar. A small gasp leaves her at the sight of tears falling from his eyes and she quickly sits up and reaches for the nightstand lamp, switching it on and letting out a worried croon as Oscar trembles by her bedside. “Oscar? Sweetheart, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Can I have a hug?” The boy asks, his hands curling into his t-shirt tightly. His face is pale and when Blake looks closely, she can see a red mark on the side of his face; as though he had been struck in some way. “Puh- _ please _ ?”

“Okay, buddy. Come here.” She murmurs, shifting over and making room for Oscar as he scrambled onto the bed and curls into her side. A soft whimper escapes him and Blake wastes no more time in wrapping her arms around him and rocking him back and forth as she hums a gentle tune. “Hey. It’s okay. I’ve got you, yeah? It’s okay, Oscar. I’m here. Cry as much as you need to, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

Blake holds the young boy close to her side, letting him cling fearfully to her shirt as small, terrified sobs leave his throat. She doesn’t rush him, simply lets him go until his tears have run dry and he’s slumping against her weakly, small sniffles leaving him as he finally calms down.

“Did you have a nightmare, buddy?” Blake asks softly, carefully, as Oscar pulls away from her and shifts away, his fingers digging into his shirt anxiously. When he nods, slow and unsure, Blake sighs softly and offers a small smile in return. “I’m sorry, Oscar. Nightmares are no good. Would you like to tell me about it? See, the cool thing about having four ears is that it makes me a  _ really  _ good listener.” She says as she wiggles her cat ears for effect, relief flooding her when Oscar gives her the smallest of smiles. “Come on. You can tell me. I won’t make fun.”

“I dreamed about the Witch.” Oscar says in a painfully small voice, glancing up at Blake and frowning at her, confusion crossing his features as he talks. “She- she said that if she can’t find her kids, then she’s- she’s going to replace them, starting with me.” Oscar’s voice wavers and he raises his hand to his reddened cheek, touching it gingerly as fear enters his green eyes. “I told her that I already had my auntie. That I don’t wanna be her kid. She didn’t like that so she hit me. Salem’s a nasty lady, Miss Blake. I don’t like her.” 

Blake croons softly in her throat as Oscar begins to cry again and she opens her arms, her heart breaking as the little boy throws himself at her and buries his face into her neck with a sob. It doesn’t escape her notice that Oscar had used a  _ name  _ for the Witch but with the boy trembling in her arms, she doubts that mentioning it will be of any use to them. 

So instead, she sings quietly to him, rocking him back and forth until he’s ready to return back to his own bed. Even then, he reaches for her hand and pleads either her to stay until he’s asleep and she does; watching over him protectively until he falls asleep and lets go of her hand. 

* * *

“Hi, Mrs. Pine. How are you?”

“Oh, as well as one can be at a work conference. How’s Oscar?”

“Ah. Well, there have been a couple of… um…  _ incidents.” _ Blake says slowly into her scroll as she curls up on the couch. She leans backwards, craning to look into the kitchen where Oscar is busy drawing with the same red crayon that she first saw him with. “He’s told me about something he calls the “Witch.” Said something about her being responsible for his injuries?”

“Oh gosh.”

“Yes, he says that she scratched up his arm and hit him. He has marks that track with what he says and… I have to admit that I’m kind of worried?” Blake says softly, biting her lips anxiously for a moment before sighing. “Mrs. Pine… he seems a lot brighter and happier outside of this house. Is there a relative or another place that I can take him so he feels more comfortable?”

“I told you that he has an active imagination, Blake. I fear that the history of that house may be feeding that.” Em says, sounding tired and drained as she speaks. “It’s happened before. I suspect he gets up to some mischief and gets hurt. His imagination runs away with him and he creates these wild stories of a “Witch” to explain them. It’s nothing to worry about, dear.”

“Uh-huh.” Blake murmurs, remaining unconvinced as she closes her eyes and holds back a frustrated growl. Why do they never take these things seriously? “Have you experienced anything strange, Mrs. Pine? Like getting hurt in strange ways or having strange dreams or nightmares?”

“Of course. But like Oscar, I suspect that it’s my imagination getting caught up in the history of the house.” Em sounds strained, anxious. For a moment, Blake wonders who it is the older woman is truly trying to convince. “I should have warned you about his…  _ oddities.  _ It’s nothing to worry about. Boys will be boys after all. Now… Do you think I could say hello to him? Make sure he’s okay?”

“Of course.”

As Blake leans against the door of the kitchen and watches as Oscar’s face lights up with joy at the sound of his aunt’s voice, she can’t help but feel that something really isn’t right. With Em admitting to having strange experiences and injuries and Oscar’s behaviour and “stories”, Blake feels that there may be something seriously wrong. There is no way that this is a case of a child and his aunt both having overactive imaginations getting overworked by the history of the house. No, there has to be more to it than that. 

_ The house’s history. _

Maybe  _ that’s  _ where Blake will find her answers to the mystery of what’s going on around here.

* * *

The lot that resides on Evernight  _ Road, downtown Vale has an admittedly darker history than most of its neighbours.  _

_ Originally, a different, much older house sat upon that very lot. This house, built in the early 1900’s, belonged to a couple called Salem and Ozma Grimm. The couple had four children; three girls and, their youngest, a single boy. Ozma and Salem were devoted to their children, hiring only the best tutors that money could buy. But unbeknownst to their neighbours, Salem harboured the unique talent of dark witchcraft. For the longest time, nobody knew of what she was capable of. At least… not until her beloved husband, much like many other members of their township, became deathly ill. _

_ As Ozma grew sicker and sicker, Salem became more and more desperate to keep the man she loved alive. But it was not to be and eventually, her beloved died of his illness. After she watched his body be taken away to be disposed of to avoid spreading it to others, Salem fell into ruin, some would even say that she was driven mad by grief. But those who knew her well would go on to say that her mind was sharp as ever, but it was her heart that was broken beyond repair. The grief stricken mother became bitter and resentful to the two doctors that had failed to save her husband, despite their confident and admittedly arrogant belief that they could bring him back from the brink of death. Her faith in modern medicine was shaken and she returned to what she knew; practicing her dark craft.  _

_ But alas… her craft could not save her children from whatever illness had plagued her town and taken her husband. As each child succumbed, she watched from her porch as their bodies were taken away; just as her Ozma’s had. Her anger and resentment grew and she began to curse the very name of God and all who served Him.  _

_ Eventually, the old woman fell ill, as doomed to death as her family. But before her final hours, the attending doctor recalled hearing her chanting quietly, her gaze far away and distant.  _

_ Her passing was quiet. There was no one left to mourn for the family, after all. But still… the house remained for many, many years; abandoned to the elements. Any attempts to sell it were met with wild accounts of a wicked spectre; a witch that refused to let her home be sold. Finally, the local government chose to have the entire building demolished and left the plot unclaimed and that’s how it would remain for many years until a young man called Ozpin and his wife and daughter would buy that very plot and build a home upon it. Shortly after moving in, however, the young family found themselves suffering from constant night terrors and strange injuries that they could not account for. After their daughter woke up screaming and begging for her life, the couple chose to move out and sell their house. _

_ The house would remain empty for many years until it was sold to a woman and her young nephew. No new reports have been discovered since. _

* * *

Later that afternoon, as Oscar draws silently at the kitchen table, Blake finds herself reading through a report of April’s home. As she continues to read, she feels her heart drop to her stomach and her anxiety flares within her chest.

_‘Dark witchcraft?_ _Why does it have to be dark witchcraft?’_ She thinks to herself bitterly, her ears pinning against her head as she chews anxiously at her bottom lip. _‘As if having my own personal demonic entity stalking me wasn’t bad enough.’_

She doesn’t like it. She does  _ not  _ like it one bit. It all adds up far too well; a woman driven mad by the loss of her partner and children, her skills in the dark arts, the muttered chant the doctor had heard… if the woman had chosen to bind herself to the house before she died, then it’s possible that it’s  _ she  _ that has been terrorising all families that come into ownership of the house. 

A low, worried noise escapes her throat and she throws her scroll to the coffee table before letting her head fall back against the couch with a groan. For her part, she just has to hold out until Em returns the following day and then, she’s free to return to her normal life.

But that doesn’t sit right with her. It doesn’t feel right to leave this woman and her little boy to suffer just because Em might not believe in the supernatural. It feels wrong to just leave them behind, to run away back to her life while a little boy lives in fear and hides the reality of his injuries from his aunt. She can’t do it. But she doesn’t know what else she  _ can  _ do to help.

“Miss Blake?”

“Wha-huh?” Blake jumps, her hand flying to her chest as she sits up and looks down, wide eyed, at Oscar as he stands in front of her with a sheet of paper held in between his hands nervously. “Oh. Oscar, hey. Is something wrong, sweetheart?” She asks softly, smiling when he looks away shyly.

“I made this for you.” He says in a small, shy voice, handing Blake the sheet of paper and holding his hands nervously. “Do you like it?”

The drawing is a simple one with an image of two stick figures sitting together; a small one drawn with green crayon and a taller, purple figure with two triangles on top of their head. The purple figure is holding a book in their hands, with the green figure seemigg by to be paying rapt attention to them. They’re surrounded by various flowers and, directly above the two characters, are written the words “My new frend Blake.” 

“Oh, Oscar… buddy, I love it.” Blake murmurs softly, her heart melting as Oscar grins up her brightly and climbs up onto the couch to give her a quick hug. “Thank you. This is very sweet of you.”

“Do you think I could draw like you one, Miss Blake?” Oscar asks, shuffling back against the arm rest as he begins to fiddle with his fingers shyly, his green eyes focused on his hands. 

“If you keep practicing a little every day? You might even be better than me.” Blake chuckles, reaching out to ruffle his black hair playfully and smiling softly as he giggles.

That giggle, she thinks, is exactly what a child is meant to sound like. They shouldn’t be scared or waking up fearful of some malevolent spirit in their home. They shouldn’t be trying to hide their injuries and how they got them from their caregivers. They shouldn’t be living a childhood that they’ll need to recover from. 

Not like Blake did.

* * *

_ “Blake?” _

_ “Yes, Mama?” A thirteen year old Blake says softly as she meets her mother’s gaze, frowning as Kali’s eyes wander to the scratch on her jaw. “What is it?” _

_ “How did you get that scratch, my love?” _

_ “Oh. The Bull-Man gave me another nightmare.” Blake says with a small shrug, her black cat ears craning back against her head for a moment. “I don’t think  _ **_he_ ** _ likes that I’m learning to be in control now. It scares  _ **_him_ ** _ , I think.” _

_ “Hm.” Kali hums, her lips drawn into a thin line as she sits by Blake on her bed and glances over her shoulder at her sketch at the unnerving depiction of the entity haunting her. “I see. So…  _ **_he’s_ ** _ hurting you now, is he?” _

_ “Because I’m not letting  _ **_him_ ** _ scare me. See,  _ **_he_ ** _ feeds off of fear and paranoia, just like I told Dad. The more scared and paranoid I am, the stronger  _ **_he_ ** _ becomes. But now that I’m learning to control my fear, it’s like I’m starving  _ **_him_ ** _ so  _ **_his_ ** _ power is limited.” Blake explains calmly, turning to blink slowly at her mother, her lips curling into a patient smile as Kali furrows her brows in concern. “If I can control my fear, I can stop  _ **_him_ ** _ from getting more powerful, Mama. Then, I can make sure that  _ **_he_ ** _ never hurts anyone ever again.” _

_ “You’re thirteen years old, Blake.” Kali sighs, curling her arm around her daughter and pulling her into her side before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “That’s not your responsibility, baby girl. We’re going to figure out a way to make  _ **_him_ ** _ go away.” _

_ “You can’t.” Blake says with a heavy sigh, sounding far wearier than her age should allow. She leans into her mother’s side, resting her head on her chest and listening to the soothing, rhythmic beating of her heart. “ _ **_He_ ** _ likes how scared I can get.  _ **_He_ ** _ likes how  _ **_he_ ** _ makes me spiral from fear into terror so… I’m going to make sure  _ **_he_ ** _ can’t do that.” _

_ “Sweetheart…” _

_ “I won’t let  _ **_Adam_ ** _ hurt my family.” She persists, her heart dropping like lead the moment she realises that  _ **_his_ ** _ name has passed her lips. Anxiously, she sits up and gently pushes at her mother, encouraging her out of her room. “Uh… can I take a nap, please? I didn’t get much sleep.” _

_ “Oh! Uh… okay… but I’m leaving your door open. Promise me you’ll yell if you need me.” _

_ Blake’s heart twinges with guilt at the fear coming off of her mother in waves and mutters a soft promise before Kali leaves the room, casting one final look of worry back at her before leaving the room with a sigh.  _

_ Blake inhales sharply as the air becomes heavier, a could stench radiating from her closet like that of rotting meat.her chest grows right as she approaches it, a small involuntary noise of fear leaving her as she enters it and shuts the door behind her; determined to beat  _ **_him_ ** _ back once more… _

_ But alas, when she would leave that closet, she would find that her utterance of  _ **_his_ ** _ name would cost her… and the price would be two sharp scratches sinking into her hip; leaving behind a scar and a reminder of what power a name can truly grant. _


End file.
